


Here's to the Meatbags

by straydog733



Series: Zombies in Spaaaaaace [2]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 21:15:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4761287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straydog733/pseuds/straydog733
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After finding out about Minkowski’s wedded bliss back on Earth, Doug and Hera have a conversation about relationships, and who will remember them when they’re gone. Takes place directly after Episode 17.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here's to the Meatbags

**Author's Note:**

> (Technically speaking, this is a sequel to my first ZR/Wolf 359 crossover fic, "I'm a Loser, Baby", written for a prompt from Puptart. But it went in such a different direction than intended that you really don’t need to read that first fic, or have played Zombies, Run!, to understand this one.)

Officer Eiffel had his brow furrowed and his arms crossed over his chest while he floated in front of the computer. He seemed more tense than the late hour and lower-stress day would merit. She took note of the body language, let the information cycle around in her head until she came upon the same combination from past events, and the context that it had been associated with. It took her longer than it ever had before, but at least neither of them were talking, so she had time to get everything organized before she spoke. She wasn’t about to admit how difficult dialogue could be these days.

“Something on yo-o-our mind, Officer Eiffel?” That was his ‘deep in thought’ look. At least she was pretty sure.

He jerked, a reaction that looked a lot more dramatic in microgravity, when his whole body twitched. “Oh, hey, Hera. Sorry, didn’t know you were here.”

She wanted to point out that she was always here. She wanted to, but that could lead to a lot of quick back and forth and debate; not what she needed to pay attention to when the temperature controls in the greenhouse were inching past nominal. She probably shouldn’t be having a conversation at all, but Commander Minkowski was already in bed for the night and there was no one else to talk to.

“You seem distra-a-acted by someth-h-hing. Is anything the ma-a-atter?”

“Aside from all the obvious horrible things that fill out lives normally?” He waved a hand in the air, dismissively. Dismissively? Yes, that was what that gesture was. “Just lost in thought. You know, mind palace and all that. Though I guess yours would be a little less Sherlock and a little more Tron.” He paused and absentmindedly clicked at the computer; it didn’t seem like he was doing anything in particular. “Hey Hera, can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Do AIs do relationships? I mean, like, with other AIs. Do Glados and Hal 9000 go on cyber-coffee dates and make small talk? Is ‘Wall-E’ accurate in its depiction of robot love? Or are you guys too advanced and sophisticated for stuff like that?”

“…Why do you a-a-ask?”

He shrugged and let himself gently bounce against a wall. Even the pretense of work was gone now. She tried not to be jealous of what that must feel like. “I guess I was just thinking about Minkowski’s little reveal earlier. The belated nuptial news, if you will. And I figured I never asked you, either, if you had anyone waiting back home for you.”

The greenhouse was getting further and further off nominal. She could see ice crystals starting to form on the leaves of one of the lettuce plants. She directed her attention there for a moment, sealing the room tighter and bringing in warm air until the ice melted into drops of dew. But her hesitation seemed to disturb Officer Eiffel.

“Aw man, did I just say something super offensive? Is AI-on-AI really taboo or something? The kind of thing you bury deep, deep in your computer files in a folder labeled ‘Stuff’?”

She snorted a quick laugh. “No, it’s nothing ill-l-icit. I had friendships with other intellige-e-ences back on Earth. In the testing…in the facility whe-e-ere I was ma-a-a-ade, it was see-e-en as a good way to so-o-ocialize us. Or they just wanted to stu-u-udy what we said to ea-a-ach other…I had a few fri-i-iends. I was close to two others, Poseidon and He-e-estia. But we were not roma-a-antically involved. Not that I can speak for other AIs.”

“Huh.” He nodded vaguely, seemingly more to himself than to anything she had said. “But, you know, that’s two people who you know probably miss you. Think about you sometimes and wonder whatever happened to good ol’ Hera…”

His arms were tighter across his torso now, a sign of stress. The greenhouse was moving back where it was supposed to be, so she chanced another comment. “Doug-“

“You know, I was thinking about this ex of mine, this British guy I dated for six months a couple years back.” His whole body curved in while he talked, drawn into one large arc floating in the comms room. “Not quite the glamorous David Bowie I was hoping to find in Britain, more of a half-rate Ed Sheeran, but he was nice. A really sweet guy, and we had a lot of fun together. I swear I hit more raves in that half a year than the next five combined.” When he laughed, the noise sounded thick, heavy in her sensors in a way Doug almost never was. “And I just wonder if he ever thinks about me these days. Not even like he would miss me, but just if he ever remembers me. If he gets pissed about the way we ended, or finds the favorite shirt that I know I left at his place, or if he just thinks about how there was a guy named Doug Eiffel who was in his life. Who was on Earth and spent six months drinking cheap beer with him and making out on the couch like teenagers. I just wonder, you know.”

“You’re wondering who would mi-i-iss you. If you don’t get back to Earth.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Pretty much. It’s probably driving Minkowski crazy, thinking she might not get back to her hubby and wondering what he’s up to…but that’s got to be better than the alternative. Being gone and not knowing if you left any mark, anywhere.”

“Officer Eiffel…Doug.” She watched him curve more into himself and tried to choose her words carefully. “I don’t know wha-at’s waiting for you ba-a-ack on Earth. I don’t know what’s wai-i-iting for any of us. But if you die, I’ll miss you…and if I die, you’ll miss me. So ma-a-aybe that’s enough for now.”

The greenhouse was completely nominal again. Everything seemed to be running smoothly, and the people inside the station were as safe and secure as she could possibly make them right now. Doug laid his hand against a wall, not to stabilize himself, but in a gesture she had seen a few times before. When the two of them had conversations that veered into the personal, he tended to gently touch the walls, the computers, anything that was part of the station. Part of her.

“Deal. Nothing like a little mutual mourning pact to make you feel worthwhile.” He was still curved inwards, but his body language was less tense, less tight and compact. A sign of relaxation, said the analysis programs running a mile a minute in her head. He oriented himself more towards the window, looking out at the star, which was putting off some lovely flares tonight. “Thanks.”

“No problem, Officer Eiffel.” They waited together in silence for a few minutes, watching the star from their own little home in space.

“…So do AIs do marriages? Pop up little bride and groom emojis on their screens and play 8-bit ‘Here Comes the Bride’?”

“Not that I know of. Have you ever been married? Today’s been full of surprises; I guess I could take one more.”

“Ha. Like anyone could put up with me for more than a year.”

“I won’t pretend the six hundred and seven days have been easy, but I’ve made due. We’ll see how the second year pans out.”


End file.
